


You Fall, I Fall

by EdgyWinterSoldier



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, So much angst, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-24 07:48:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13806738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgyWinterSoldier/pseuds/EdgyWinterSoldier
Summary: Jesse McCree is a recently discharged soldier still reeling from the traumatic events leading up to his exit from the military. He's lost his arm and the last person in the world who gave a damn about him. He's just moved in next door to seemingly uptight and unfriendly archery instructor Hanzo Shimada. Jesse's new neighbor might wind up being a major pain in his ass...or maybe his saving grace.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I aged them down a bit for this so their ages would be closer to when Jesse was fresh out of Blackwatch. Jesse is 30 and Hanzo is 31. Mostly rated M for later chapters.

His back collides with the cold hardwood of his bedroom floor for the third night in a row. His legs are still tangled in the sweaty sheets that he's carried with him on his short journey to the floor, and he's still thrashing against them in his half-aware state. "Get off! Get off me you bastar-" He blinks, suddenly aware that he is attempting to strangle a sheet and not a man.  _Goddamnit Jesse_ he thinks.  _Can't keep doing this every night._ He sits up and runs his hand through his shaggy tangled hair and sighs.  _Wonder if I at least made it until 3 this time._ He glances at the alarm clock on the nightstand mockingly displaying  _2:53 AM_ in fluorescent green.  _Damn. Closer than last time I suppose. Small Victories._

He can't remember the last time he slept through the night. Every night is the same song and dance. He takes a handful of pills and knocks-out for maybe an hour before the nightmares start. It's always the same mission played on repeat in near perfect clarity and detail. He'll fight for his life, he'll get shot, he'll lose his arm, and  _he'll watch Reyes die trying to save Jesse's sorry ass_. Commander Gabriel Reyes had been like a father to him. He'd pulled Jesse out of the gang he'd been running with at seventeen and recruited him to use his perfect aim for the military instead turf wars. Reyes had saved his life twice and Jesse couldn't even manage to return the favor when he needed to the most.

Jesse groans as he begins pulling himself off the floor with the aid of his bed frame.  _No use layin' on the floor all night_ , he supposed. The stump of his left arm twinges in protest at the maneuver and he clamps his hand over it, willing it to stop bothering him for just five goddamn minutes. The air in the house is frigid, as it has been the past week since the heater broke. The temperature has dipped into the low thirties tonight and he's definitely feeling it as he slips on a flannel from the pile of dirty laundry on the floor, grabs his stetson off the bed post, and pads barefoot down the hall towards the front door. The whole house smells of cigarillos, whiskey and _misery._  Jesse doesn't care how damn cold it is tonight; he needs some fresh air or he's going to suffocate inside this house. 

Cold winter air assaults his skin the second he opens the door and he is suddenly very aware of the fact that he isn't wearing a coat...or shoes. _Should probably go back in an' put somethin' on my feet, but it'll be fine if I'm just out here for a few minutes,_ he muses. He's kidding himself and he knows it. He plops down sideways onto the dingy arm chair on his sad excuse for a porch and throws his legs over the arm. His joggers bunch up higher on his shins and now he's even colder. Great. He can imagine what a sight he is barefoot and slung over a chair on his front porch at 3AM in all his scruffy unshaven glory.

His neighbors, on the rare occasions he sees them, are already wary of him. He's the guy they steer their kids away from when they see him. He's the gruff one armed ex soldier who lives in the tiny and rundown eyesore of a house that sits right smack in the middle of all their nice new houses. The little house had been the only one there before they started building the neighborhood around it and its original owner refused to part with it to make room for the newer homes. A fact that Jesse is eternally grateful for when he pays his cheap rent instead of what he imagines everyone else pays.

To the left of Jesse is his most disapproving neighbor thus far: Shimada. The man is the only one in the neighborhood who hasn't put up a tall fence to separate himself from the shack of a house, something that had perplexed Jesse to no end considering how much the man seems to hate him. Shimada, or at least Jesse assumes that's his name from the etching on his mailbox, seemed to dislike his presence the most. He'd only seen the man a few times, but it was enough for Jesse to know that Shimada absolutely did not want to associate with him. The first time they'd seen each other had been three months ago when Jesse had been struggling to carry his meager belongings inside. He still hadn't quite gotten used to only having one arm and it was showing. He was trying to wrestle his duffle out of his truck when it caught on the door handle and with no second arm to catch himself, he wound up sprawled on his ass on the concrete. 

"Goddamn no-good truck tryin' to kill me", he muttered. Someones's badly suppressed snickering interrupted his cursing and his head shot up to seek out who dared test him in his less than pleasant mood. There was a man on the sidewalk dressed in running attire with long dark hair pulled up into a haphazard bun to showcase an undercut and piercings. He had a hand pressed to his mouth to stifle his laughter and suddenly Jesse was all kinds off pissed off. He started pushing himself off the ground thoroughly determined to kick the man's ass,  _one arm_ _be damned_ , when he heard a gasp.

The jackass was looking at him with some kind of horrified guilty expression that had Jesse confused as hell until he realized,  _oh he didn't see._  He'd twisted his torso around to get his arm under him so he could push himself up and in the process he'd showcased the stump of his arm peeping out of his teeshirt. The runner probably had thought he'd just witnessed some average grown man falling on his ass and couldn't help but laugh at the sight. _Can't really blame him I'd laugh too_ , he thought. Now the man looked caught between the urge to apologize or bolt, and it seemed like he'd chosen the latter as he turned on his heel and sprinted into the house next Jesse's and slammed the door so hard Jesse feared for its hinges. "Nice to meet you too," he yelled.

The man's been avoiding Jesse like the plague since their first unofficial meeting. The remainder of his encounters with Shimada over the following months are mostly disapproving glares from his window during Jesse's late night retreats outside his house. Tonight is no different apparently because the curtains of the man's second story window are pulled aside and Shimada's frowning face pops into the window. His sharp features are illuminated only by the moonlight and with him looking down like he is it reminds Jesse of when someone places a flashlight under their chin in an attempt to make themselves look scary. He can't help but admit that it's working.

Even after he averts his eyes, Jesse can still feel Shimada's sharp gaze making him squirm. He pulls his hat from his head and places it over face, tilting his head back over the arm of the chair in order to hide somewhat from his neighbor's stare.  _Shouldn't he be sleepin' right now_ _anyway,_  he wonders. _I know the man's got a job. Jesus, go to bed already you damn demon._ Jesse is starting to get tired now that he's calmed down and his toes are starting to feel a little numb. In the back of his mind he knows he should probably be concerned about that, but he can't really bring himself to give a damn at the moment.

The cold air always helps clear his head and the shear exhaustion from this many consecutive sleepless nights usually leads to an eventual crash where his body is going to sleep and he doesn't have much say in the matter. He doesn't really mind though, because those exhaustion fueled naps are almost always blissfully void of the violent nightmares that haunt his dreams. He readjusts his hat and willingly lets his body pull him down into unconsciousness. 

\-------

Jesse wakes gradually to someone shaking his shoulder. Normally years of military training would have brought him up swinging, but extreme sleep deprivation has him sluggish and confused this time.

"Are you an idiot?" The voice is tight with anger and it adds even more confusion to his waking.

"Who...?" Jesse mumbles.

Someone lifts the hat from his face and Jesse quickly throws his arm over his eyes to shield himself from the sunlight that assaults his vision.  _Wait. Sunlight?_ He removes his arm from his face and finds himself staring into Shimada's livid face.

"What do you think you are doing out here without a coat or shoes? You _stupid_ man!" He growls down at Jesse. "I knew I should not have left you out here last night. Get up!"

Jesse blinks. "what?" Shimada pinches the bridge of his nose as he grits his teeth together. "I said," he grinds out, "Get up! We are going inside before you freeze to death." Jesse's waking stupor is wearing off and he's quickly realizing how he go into this situation.

He must have fallen asleep last night and slept all the way until morning.  _Damn._ Shimada must have seen him still outside and had come to make sure he wasn't dead.  _Aw how sweet._

"Are you even listening to me?" Shimada is still glowering down at him, hand still gripping Jesse's shoulder like a vise.

"Heater's broken." He supplies. "It's not much warmer in there anyway."

His neighbor frowns even harder at that. "Very well." Shimada says. "My heater is working. Come." Jesse opens his mouth to argue, but his feet feel like twin blocks of ice and it's becoming harder to ignore. So instead, Jesse McCree finds himself following his neighbor across his lawn like a very cold and  _very_ lost puppy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments! They make me so happy~

Jesse follows Shimada into a rather spacious living room just off the entranceway of his two-story house. There's a fire already roaring in the fireplace and Jesse feels like a man stranded in the desert who's just found an oasis. 

"Sit," Shimada says while tossing Jesse a thickly knit gray blanket and pointing towards a plush couch near the fireplace, "while I make us some tea." He's always hated tea, just tastes like flowery water in his opinion, but that's not something he's about to point out to his generous host. He does have manners, even for rude neighbors who stare at him from windows late at night. And he's not about to risk getting booted out until he's defrosted into something resembling a human being instead of a popsicle.

"Or coffee?" Shimada offers, as if sensing his discomfort in the air.

"Yeah," he says relieved, "black if you don't mind." 

"Of course." And just like that Jesse is alone, draped in a blanket that smells like expensive aftershave and sitting in uncharted territory. The rational part of his brain is wondering what he's doing in a strangers home and just how in the hell he got into this situation in the first place.  _Well he ain't a complete stranger,_  Jesse supposes, _if_ _you count all the starin' he's done. We've seen plenty of each other. Pretty sure he could describe me perfectly to a sketch artist._ He lets his gaze wander around the spacious room, letting his curiosity linger on some of the...interesting choices in decor.

There are various archery bows lining a shelf that takes up the entire wall to his left. He's surprised to see that almost all the bows carry visible sign of wear and tear. There must be over twenty of them, all varying in style and color, and they all look like they've been used. However, what grabs his attention the most is what's mounted above the fireplace. Jesse's seen his fair share of weapons in his lifetime, hell he's even had a few collections himself, so that's why he's pretty sure right now that there's an honest to God samurai sword hanging over Shimada's fireplace.  _The man really is a demon._

He's pushing himself up off the couch and letting the blanket fall to the floor without even realizing it, mesmerized by sight. Once he's up close he can tell by the sheer quality of craftsmanship put just into the hilt and sheath that this isn't some replica sword meant for display; It's the kind of sword meant to be used in actual combat. He whistles, impressed despite himself. _Damn Shimada, and here I thought you were just some boring nosy neighbor. I'm impressed._

"I thought I told you to sit." Suddenly Shimada is directly behind him like a silent wraith, face so close that the man's long hair is tickling Jesse's shoulder. He's pretty sure his soul exits his body for a few seconds.

"Jesus Christ!" He yells, pressing himself as close to the fireplace as possible without becoming one with it or setting his pants alight. "Warn a man, Shimada!" His neighbor goes to set two steaming mugs onto the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Hanzo," He corrects casually as he goes to sit on the couch, "you may call me Hanzo." 

Jesse's still frozen in the same spot, hand clutched over his pounding heart like a swooning old woman.  _Man wants to do introductions after he damn near kills me_ , he thinks incredulously.  _Un-fucking-believable._

"Jesse McCree." He says going for a growl that comes out more as a breathless wheeze. "Guess Jesse's fine." He murmurs, managing to sound slightly less out of breath as he peels himself off the wall and heads towards the couch. Hanzo offers him the discarded blanket with a look that suggests that he wont take no for an answer, so Jesse accepts premature defeat and grudgingly accepts it again. He sits as far away from his neighbor as the small couch allows and reaches for his mug, mouth already watering at the thought of the much needed caffeine he's about to receive. He's on his second gulp of surprisingly good coffee when Hanzo places something on the empty space between them on the couch.

"For you," he says quietly, looking away from him as if embarrassed "incase you are still cold."

Jesse looks down at the offered bundle, setting his mug down so he can further investigate. It's a pair of thick blue socks featuring an intricate circular design. He's sure they'll be a bit too small for him, but his feet are still mostly numb despite the warmth in the house and the socks are temptingly soft. 

 

"Thanks," he says, "my feet appreciate it."

The tip of Hanzo's visible pierced ear turns a faint shade of pink, "You are welcome." He replies, and now Jesse is definitely sure that he's embarrassed. _Aw, who knew Shimada was such a big softie under that mean face._  

Jesse goes about putting on the socks, a task that unfortunately requires his full attention since he's lost his arm. He's been mostly forgoing things like socks since it happened, not out of laziness, but out of preservation for his fragile moral. He'd tried to do things the same as always after he'd been discharged, a mistake that had left him feeling defeated at every turn.

He vividly remembers his first few weeks fresh out of the hospital when he had been living in a motel while he tried to scrounge up some sort of stable living arrangement. At the time he'd been holding himself together with whiskey and glue as he tried to adjust to civilian life for the first time in years and life as an amputee for the fist time ever. He'd been trying to deal with so many things alone, because the only person that could help him through it was dead and it was his goddamn fault.

He remembers a particularly bad day where he'd struggled for nearly twenty minutes to button his shirt with no success. He'd left it unbuttoned out of frustration and moved on to lacing his boots, a task that had proved to be even more difficult than the first. Then he'd looked up from his seated position on the floor and met his own haunted stare in the floor length mirror across the room. There he was, shirt wrinkled and unbuttoned, deep purple crescents decorating his under eyes, hair tangled and greasy, one shoe string gripped tightly in his hand and the other clenched between his teeth. He put his fist through the mirror.

Thankfully, Hanzo's mirrors are safe from Jesse's wrath for now, because he's managed to wrestle on the socks without too much trouble. It's a small win that he's actually a little proud of since he hasn't put on a pair of socks in at least a month, but that's not a fact he's very keen to share with his host. He glances over at the other occupant of the couch who's sipping his tea with a distant look. 

Hanzo turns his full attention away from the wall and back to Jesse. "May I ask you something? You do not have to answer if you don't want to."

Jesse can already feel an awkward conversation coming on, and with it an accompanying headache. It's still early in the morning and he's not even remotely prepared for any sort of heart to heart with a near stranger, but hell, the man probably kept him from loosing a few toes to frostbite and now he feels obligated. "Sure, I guess. Shoot."

"Why do you sit outside almost every night despite the weather?" Hanzo's staring dead at him with those damn sharp eyes of his again. 

_Well, could have been a lot of worse questions. 'Least he didn't ask how I lost the arm. Definitely not ready for that conversation._

"I have nightmares from... my time in the military. Cold air helps clear my head." He prefers to keep it simple for now. He likes Hanzo just fine now that they've talked a bit, but he's in no mood to delve into all that deep shit when he's stone cold sober.

Hanzo looks thoughtful as he processes the information. "Are there not..services that help veterans deal with those things?" He asks gently.

_Ah, here comes the headache._

"Not for me." He breathes out a heavy sigh,  _Definitely too early for this shit._ "I was, uh, dishonorably discharged for reasons I don't want to get into right now. You don't know what happened, so don't go lookin' down on me."

_Way too many bad memories for one day, and the day just started._

Hanzo seems like he wants to pry, but mercifully spares him instead and leaves it at that. "I see. Well, if you must continue will you at least wear a coat and shoes? I would prefer you not die."

Jesse can't help the sudden warm feeling that comes rushing unbidden into his chest at the man's unexpected concern for his well being.  _Haven't felt that since Reyes_ , he thinks. And then suddenly a much worse feeling is rising up to choke out the warmth. He shivers involuntarily.

"Yeah, 'course I will." He says, offering a small smile. The atmosphere in the room has darkened considerably and Jesse's never been a fan of awkward silences. It's only fair that Hanzo be in the hot seat for a while.

"Alright, my turn for a question. What's with all the bows? You collect 'em, or are ya just really into cosplay?"

Hanzo promptly chokes on his tea. "Those bow were made by some of the finest craftsmen in Japan; they are not for  _cosplay."_ He hisses.The man looks genuinely offended and Jesse will have to make a mental note to forgo sarcasm in the future, but for now he'll just focus on choking back his laughter. If looks could kill, then Jesse would have burst into flames and roasted alive five seconds ago. 

"I was just kiddin' Shimada, no need to get so worked up about it."

"I was not worked up." He says, but the side eye he's giving Jesse says otherwise.

"So what are they really for then?"

"I am an archery instructor. I studied kendo for a time as well, but I was never as talented as my brother."

Somehow the mental image of Hanzo yelling at poor unsuspecting archery students about their lack of talent is perfectly fitting. Jesse laughs, "That makes a lot more sense. Didn't know there was a place that taught archery around here though."

Hanzo raises a sharp eyebrow. "How could you not know? It is in the middle of town. It is not easily missed."

Jesse focuses on his socked feet. "I don't get out much." 

Hanzo has the decency to look ashamed as he says "I apologize, I did not mean to be rude."

"Naw it's fine. I didn't mean to be depressing." He says with a quiet laugh.

Now his neighbor's scowl is back in full force. "You are not depressing. I have enjoyed your company thus far." 

Jesse can't remember the last time he had actual company. No one had come to visit him during his stint in the hospital, and the trend had stayed steady since his release. He doesn't know much about Hanzo apart from his affinity for archery, but he finds that he's actually starting to take a liking to the man.

"Yeah, me too." He says. "Thought you hated me up till now though."

"You thought...why would you think that?" Hanzo asks incredulously, turning his whole body so he's facing Jesse full on. Confusion is evident in his wide eyes and scrunched eyebrows.

Had he been wrong? "Well you're always glarin' at me from your window, ya know?"

Hanzo runs a hand over his face in exasperation. "I was not glaring, I was...disapproving of your tendency to sit out in the cold so often. I could not sleep in good conscious knowing a man might die of hypothermia right outside my window." 

_Well this is a surprise._ "Well why didn'tja just open the window and say as much?"

Hanzo crosses his arms. "I was worried that you might resent me after how I acted during our first encounter. 

"You mean the day you laughed at me for fallin' on my ass?" Hanzo winces. "I ain't mad at you; it was just a misunderstanding. Hell, this whole thing is one big misunderstanding."

Jesse sighs and runs his hand through his hair, noting dully that it's been a while since he's washed it.  _Should probably get around to that sometime soon._ There's a lot of things he should get around to, mainly getting back to his own house. Hanzo's been nothing but kind and it's a weight off his shoulders to know the man doesn't actually hate him, but he's been here a hell of a lot longer than he intended to be. It's a weekday and Hanzo probably has to get to work soon. 

"You gotta work today Hanzo?" He asks, twiddling with the edge of the soft blanket that's still draped across his knees.

"I do, yes." Hanzo pulls his phone from his jeans. "I should leave shortly, or I'll be late."

 

Jesse's starting to feel rather guilty for being a huge detour in his neighbor's morning routine. "Well, I'll leave you to it." He says as he reaches down so he can shuck off the borrowed socks on his feet.

"Keep them," Hanzo says, "I have too many honestly, and I've never worn that pair." 

Jesse's always been pretty good at reading people, and he knows a lie when he sees one, but he's not about to call the man out on it. "Thanks. That's mighty nice of you."

"I would like to do something else for you as well." Now Jesse's getting wary. He knows how to accept small gifts and kindnesses, but he has his limits. "I'll send someone by to fix your heater later.

Okay, that's definitely past his limits. "Okay hold on now Han-"

"I know it is a lot from someone you just met," he says cutting of Jesse's protests, "however, I know you will just say you will fix it yourself then never get around to it. Consider it an apology for my behavior that caused this misunderstanding."

Jesse can't help but feel mildly attacked, because he had planning on doing just that. He's pretty sure he doesn't even have the right tools to fix a heater and his handyman expertise had run out back when kicking the thing had stopping being a successful way to bring it back to life. However, the idea of a warm house is tempting, but the impending power bill with a working heater is not. He's been living off the pay he stored away while he was deployed, but that won't last forever.

"I don't know, that's not a cheap favor." He feels bad even considering letting Hanzo do it.

"It's not a favor, it is a gift." Hanzo isn't backing down and Jesse knows he can't manage to talk him out of it without making him late to work.  _Guess I'm inconveniencing him one way or another today._

He sighs, "Alright. I still think it's too much, but thank you none the less."

Hanzo gives him a small smile. "I will see if they can send someone later today." He says as he rises from the couch and grabs their discarded mugs from the table.

Jesse does the same and stretches out his sore back that's feeling the repercussions of last night's uncomfortable sleeping position. The kitchen is on the opposite side of the entryway, so he follows Hanzo the short distance to the door. 

"Thanks for the coffee and for, uh, wakin' me up earlier. 'ppreciate it." Hanzo pauses just outside of the kitchen to lean on it's entranceway with his ankles crossed.

He smirks at Jesse. "Do not think I won't do it again." Jesse can feel warmth flooding to his face and he can't quite pinpoint the cause. 

"Countin' on it." Jesse shoots back. Then he's out the door before he can waste anymore of the man's time. For some reason Hanzo's smirking face is lingering in his head and he doesn't know why. He's had Reyes' blood smeared face stuck in his head for months, but now all he sees is Hanzo Shimada. Now he's shuffling across Hanzo's front lawn for the second time this morning, but this time he's clad in blue woolen socks and he's got a warm blush high on his stubbled cheeks.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wound up being a lot longer than I anticipated. Oops. Please leave me comments telling me what you think!
> 
> Also, catch me on Tumblr @all-hail-grayson

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are much appreciated! Its my first fanfic so please let me know if you see a mistake and also if I should continue.


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